Let's Make Memories
by 44TayLo
Summary: Due to a traumatized childhood, Bruce never celebrates Christmas. He'd rather pretend it's another normal day, but allows Natasha to intervene anyway. And in the end, he's glad she did. Features Bruce and Natasha bonding, boxed vodka, mistletoe mayhem, and baking shenanigans. Bruce centric, though all of the Avengers, Pepper, Jane, and Darcy make an appearance.


In his defense, he really hadn't known the date.

The day had started out normally enough. Bruce had woken up, dressed, made himself some breakfast and tea, and headed down to the lab. Just like every other day. He'd settled in to read through the data Jarvis had collected for him during the night, and then tweak the experiment accordingly. Engrossed in science, he'd worked straight through lunch. Again, completely normal.

Tony's absence hadn't tipped him off, either. But, in his defense, Tony left for board meetings and other SI business all the time without giving Bruce a heads up.

No, it took Natasha Romanoff walking into his lab wearing sweats and a Santa hat while drinking from a juice box to jog his memory.

With her silent tread, he wouldn't have known she was there if Jarvis hadn't warned him ahead of time. Swiveling his chair, he watched her walk through the automated doors and approach him.

Red hair, darker and longer than when they'd first met, fell in her face. The combination of her too big clothes and the juice box should have made her look young, but oddly enough the juxtaposition of her heavy gaze and predatory body language served only to make her deadlier.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at her. Why was she in his lab? More importantly, why was she at the Tower in the first place? If there was a crisis large enough to warrant the assembly of the Avengers, Jarvis would have alerted him before Romanoff was even on site.

Her lips pulled up into a smile. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bruce realized it was the first real one he'd received from her.

"Stark invited everyone for Christmas." The straw fell from her lips as she answered his unspoken question.

Bruce's eyes widened. He averted his gaze, looking down at the table. "Oh. Christmas. Right."

"Everyone's upstairs."

Bruce heard the unspoken "everyone but you".

He'd been purposely ignoring Christmas as it creeped steadily closer. It seemed he'd succeeded in diverting his thoughts up until now. His mind worked like a steel trap. The idiom made sense in both its actual definition, and when it functioned as a symbol. Bruce was smart, he knew that. He also had incredible focus. Unfortunately, his mind didn't always agree on where that focus should be put to use. When a topic, especially one as unpleasant as Christmas, entered his mind, it got caught in his psyche. His mind was relentless, thinking about the same thing over and over again, his thoughts beginning to repeat themselves in an endless circle. It was like that one, central thought was caught in a steel cage, and his brain refused to release it.

He'd always thought that way. This thought process allowed him to pick things apart until all that was left were the bare bones, go through idea after idea pertaining to the same subject, and repeat the same trains of thought to see if something had changed or if his hypotheses had been confirmed. That coupled with his innate curiosity gave him the ideal scientific mind.

It also allowed his own thoughts to torture him, to build up doubts and worries until he himself felt trapped. From an early age, he decided he must deserve his own mind's abuse. It was a form of penance. He understood that this idea was originally formed by the flawed logic of an emotionally and physically damaged child, but it stuck nonetheless. The creation of the Hulk only further supported the hypothesis.

Still, he couldn't help but shy away from such thoughts. It was for this very reason Christmas wasn't a topic he liked to dwell on.

"I can practically see the wheels turning in your head, Doc." Natasha said with a sigh. Her tone was soft, expressing an emotion he couldn't quite place. It seemed important to figure out what it was, since everything she did-even the emotions she chose to make known-was deliberate.

She sat herself down on his work table with her typical grace. "No one up there is scared of you, if that's what you're worried about. We trust you."

That was big, coming from Natasha. From the person on the team he'd frightened the most. Once on purpose, once on accident. He felt some of his worries slide away, though the majority still boxed him in.

Unguarded, green eyes stared back when he finally met her gaze. They were so uncharacteristically open…so vulnerable, that she actually did look like a kid with a juice box in her lap.

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff-"

"Natasha." She interrupted, her mouth quirking up again.

Despite himself, his own mouth twisted into a small smile. "Natasha. I didn't realize what day it was."

Her eyes roamed over his face, and the illusion of child-like naivety was broken. Natasha had the remarkable ability of being able to throw up walls and slip into masks at will. Currently, she was bringing out The Spy, the same woman who'd managed to go head to head with the God of Lies and win.

The sharpness vanished, accompanied by a deceptively delicate hand on his shoulder. "Even if you'd remembered, you'd still be down here."

And that tone was back. Her thumb unexpectedly moved in a soothing motion, and it clicked into place. Concern. With her voice, with her actions, she was allowing him to see that she was concerned.

"Christmas isn't…it's not something I usually celebrate."

"Me neither. But, it's a nice change. Clint's really getting into it, anyway. Wore a hideous sweater and everything."

She must have seen something in his face, because her brows furrowed and she slowly removed her hand from his shoulder.

"I'm listening if you want to talk."

And that was the thing about Natasha. She knew how to make you want to do what she asked, how to manipulate you into thinking you had a choice and were still in control. Bruce had no way of knowing if she was doing that right now to collect intell for SHIELD, or if she honestly cared. In any case, the unpleasantries of his past were most likely mentioned in his SHIELD file, which she'd undoubtedly seen. There wasn't really any harm in telling her the truth.

He shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. She'd see right through it, but it was worth a shot. "I just don't have a lot of happy memories associated with Christmas. I'd rather treat it like any other day."

She nodded, humming thoughtfully. "Well," she said as she slid off the table and onto the floor. "It's never too late to start."

"Um," he muttered uncertainly. Natasha had grabbed his arm and was pulling him out of his chair. "To start what?"

Without pausing, she answered, "Making better memories."

Another smile managed to make its way onto his face. He let her drag him out of the lab, through the hallway, and into an elevator.

A dainty finger pushed the button for whatever floor the party was on. She took a sip from her juice box, and then handed it out to him. "Want some?"

"What kind of juice is it?"

She snorted a laugh. "It's not juice, it's vodka."

He inspected the packaging to find that it was, in fact, vodka with a 37.5% ABV. "In a juice box?" He asked incredulously.

She nodded. "Thank God for Romania."

Shaking his head, he let out a chuckle of his own. "No thanks. I don't drink."

The concerned look was back on her face. "Everyone else is drinking. Are you going to be okay around-"

"As long as no one's an angry drunk, I think I'll be just fine. Besides," he muttered wryly, "I think Tony would die before he bought any of the cheap whiskey dear old Dad used to drink."

She just nodded, not probing any further.

He explained anyway. "It's the, uh, smell that gets to me."

"Me too."

He tilted his head in question.

"When I was a kid, I lost my parents in a fire. Still hate the smell of smoke."

Before he could inquire further, the doors opened and she stalked out.

The first thing Bruce noticed was how loud the Christmas music was being played. The second was Thor, Tony, and Clint laughing loudly at the room's bar. Several large, wooden barrels sat next to them, and Bruce could only assume Thor had returned from Asgard with mead.

There was a short, dark haired woman with glasses drinking with them. She was Jane Foster's intern, and he believed her name was Darcy. Steve and Jane appeared to be monitoring their drinking friends, which was actually a very smart idea. No one wanted a repeat of the last time Thor, Tony, and Clint had a drinking contest. It ended with several arrows in one of Pepper's favorite paintings, a busted flight stabilizer, and a Mjolnir sized indent on the floor. There were also three disappointed men, as Natasha had won without even trying.

Speak of the devil, Pepper and Natasha were talking together on a black, L-shaped couch. There was a fire place going in front of them, with stockings hanging from the mantle. Bruce smiled fondly when he saw a stocking with Jarvis's name across the top hanging amongst Pepper's and Tony's. It was covered in binary, and oddly heartwarming.

The mantel was covered in garland, and a Christmas tree stood in the corner past Natasha and Pepper. It was decorated in white lights, and red and gold, glass ornaments. An arc reactor sat in place of a star, and Bruce wondered how in the world Tony talked Pepper into that one. He passed the two women on the couch to stare at the tree. Upon closer inspection, he noticed there were also Avenger ornaments. Bruce didn't know whether to laugh or sigh when he spotted a glass, miniature Hulk.

"Bruce." Natasha called, gesturing for him to come over.

She scooted over and patted the space between her and Pepper. "Sit."

Pepper smiled with her picture perfect teeth, still managing to appear professional, despite being dressed in jeans and a white sweater. To both his surprise and relief, everyone seemed very casual.

"I didn't know if you were going to be joining us." Pepper said with a fake pout.

"Yeah, me neither. Merry Christmas, by the way. I kind of…forgot what day it was."

Natasha nudged him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of being wedged between two incredibly powerful, attractive women, who happened to each be dating one of his friends.

"Relax." The assassin grinned. She stretched, arching her back like a cat and putting her arms in the air. After she settled back down, her gaze continued to focus on the ceiling.

"Hey, Pep." She murmured conspiratorially while gesturing for her to look up.

Bruce followed their gaze, only find that somehow, someone had managed to hang mistletoe from the incredibly tall ceiling.

He was still looking up when he felt himself being kissed on each cheek. The women on both sides of him giggled as he blushed furiously.

"Hey!"

Mentally cringing, he met Tony's stare.

"C'mon, Pep. That's not cool. You're gonna make me jealous." The billionaire sighed dramatically, putting on his best pout. On any other forty year old man, it would look absurd, but somehow Tony made it work.

"Not my fault! We're under mistletoe." She shouted back.

It was probably better if they bickered between themselves, so Bruce stayed silent. Besides, he knew Tony well enough to discern if he was joking, and he was confident that his friend wasn't upset. If anything, he was miffed that Bruce received a Christmas kiss and he hadn't.

"Oh, mistletoe." Clint said with a wave of his hand. "Well, in that case, it's fair game."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey. You know what we need?" Tony asked as he slung an arm around the archer's neck  
"Junk food."

"Mmm. Junk food. Like, homemade Christmas cookies, junk food?"

"Ooh. Yeah." Darcy nodded, swaying where she stood. "Cookies!"

Bruce had all but tuned them out, still trying to process what just happened, when Natasha nudged him again.

"What?"

"Well go on! We all know you and Clint are the only ones who can cook, and he's totally buzzed, so you're not getting out of this."

"I'm not bad in the kitchen." Pepper protested with her hands on her hips. "You just have to tell me what to do."

Cookies. A party of adults, some of them just on the right side of drunk, were going to make cookies. This most certainly wasn't as bad as Bruce had anticipated. Besides, he didn't mind baking. It was therapeutic.

"Alright, then. Come on."

He and Pepper found Clint in the kitchen. Somehow he'd already managed to spill some flour in his buzzed state, and was talking to himself in an attempt to remember a recipe.

"Why don't I take the lead on this one, Clint?"

The archer blinked at him for a second before shrugging. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

They fell into a nice rhythm. Bruce mixed the dough, while Clint rolled it out, then Pepper used cookie cutters and then put them in the oven.

Steve trickled in eventually, along with Natasha. Apparently, Captain America didn't know how to make sugar cookies.

"We, uh, didn't have a lot growing up, so Ma never made them. Then there was the Depression, then the war. Stuff like this was hard to come by." Steve admitted with a blush. He rubbed his neck awkwardly, obviously out of his element.

It wasn't often Bruce was reminded of just how young Steve was. Ironically, their leader happened to be the youngest on the team-anatomically speaking, of course.

"Perfect timing, we were about to make another batch. I'll show you how to make them."

Steve, Bruce found out, was a fast learner. As he began taking over the mixing portion of the project, Bruce found himself sitting back and enjoying the banter going on around him.

Natasha was teasing Clint about his girly hobbies, such as baking, to which Clint was saying at least one of them had to be able to cook. What really caught Bruce's attention was Natasha's comment about Clint's make-up expertise.

"I was undercover!" He protested.

"Doesn't matter. You still do my eyeliner better than I do, now."

"Damn right, I do!"

All the while, Pepper and Steve were swapping Tony Stark horror stories. Both were all too familiar with the art of Tony-wrangling.

A sense of peace settled in his stomach. He took in the domestic scene around him, realizing these people were like family now. He wasn't sure what family was supposed to feel like, not really. But none of them did.

If this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

The sound of high pitched laughter broke him from his thoughts. Darcy stumbled through the doorway, looking like she was about to fall any second. Bruce grabbed her by an arm to steady her, and wondered how she managed to escape Doctor Foster.

"Darcy?" He questioned. The woman had her arms around his neck now, and tiny hands were tugging at his curls.

"Your hair's bouncy, Bruce." She giggled. "Reeeeally bouncy."

He gently moved her arms off of his head. "Um, thanks? Why don't you go lie down on the couch?"

"Mmm. I'd rather stay here…" Her eyes landed on Steve. "Hey Cap, come here and let me see if you actually taste like apple pie."

Steve blushed but laughed all the same. "I don't think so, Ms. Lewis." He replied, never ceasing his work.

A panicked Jane appeared in the doorway. The frazzled woman sighed in exasperation as she pulled Darcy off of Bruce. "Sorry. She's kind of a handful."

"Oh, I'd say more than a handful." Darcy grinned. She looked down at her cleavage suggestively, then winked at Steve.

The blond laughed again and shook his head.

"Okay, yeah, come on, Darce. It's bedtime."

Before the two women could exit the kitchen, Thor and Tony appeared in the doorway.

"Jane, the celebration has only just begun." Thor beamed. "Darcy simply needs food in her stomach."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. He managed to squeeze past everyone and reach the far counter, which had the finished trays of cookies on them. "And by food, we mean cookies!"

The kitchen was crowded now, but to his surprise, Bruce didn't feel claustrophobic. It was actually nice having everyone in the same room. Even with an incredibly drunk Darcy. It was a miracle she hadn't passed out yet.

"Tony, get out of there." Steve groaned. The man in question was trying to steal the cookie dough.

Bruce watched as Steve held the bowl above his head and out of Tony's reach. Frustrated, Tony grabbed a handful of flour and flung it in Steve's face.

All hell broke loose after that.

"Alright, food fight!" Clint yelled. He snatched the sugar with lightening speed, and proceeded to climb onto the tops of the cabinets.

Natasha and Thor had taken cover behind the far side of the kitchen island. They'd also stolen the bowl of cookie dough and were lobbing it back at Clint in retaliation.

After being hit in the face with flour, Steve was steadily pelting Tony with handfuls of it. Thor managed to hit both of them with dough, which prompted the two men to call a truce and become their own team.

Darcy and Jane had stolen the baking soda, and seemed to be targeting solely Thor. Occasionally, Darcy would try to hit Clint, but her aim was incredibly off.

Only Bruce and Pepper seemed to not know what to do. They kept getting caught in the crossfire, so it was pointless to try and find cover now. Pepper let out a sigh and shrugged.

"Well, when in Rome…"

Bruce suddenly found himself with a face full of brown sugar.

"Do as the Romans do!"

Wiping the sugar off of his face, he spluttered, "Pepper!"

After that, Bruce just gave into the chaos. He'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't the most fun he'd had in years.

By the time they ran out of ingredients to throw, Darcy had passed out, and Thor had managed to place the entire bowl of cookie dough on Tony's head.

Excluding the occasional chuckle, everyone was mostly silent as they caught their breath. Everyone except for Bruce, who was laughing uncontrollably. While Tony had heard him laugh like this every once in a while, most of them had only been privy to the occasional, dry chuckle. This was a full on belly laugh, and Bruce soon found himself gasping for breath and clutching his sore stomach from his spot on the floor.

Natasha beamed down at him from the counter. "I told you it wasn't too late."

He just nodded at her, the smile on his face impossible to banish. If this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like, he could understand why so many people enjoyed it. Hopefully he could spend Christmas with these people, his family, every year, and add himself onto that list.


End file.
